


Echoes and silence, patience, and grace.

by teskodanceparty



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-28
Updated: 2012-02-25
Packaged: 2017-10-30 06:14:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/328673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teskodanceparty/pseuds/teskodanceparty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being a superhero is awesome. Sure, the press is always in his shit and he really, actually hates that, but he’s Dean Winchester. The press hasn’t given him a break since the mid 90’s.</p>
<p>(Supernatural as the Avengers!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Echoes and Silence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from the song 'Home' by the Foo Fighters.
> 
> Beta'd by my friend Jade, who should really stop encouraging my crazy but I love her so it works out well.

Being a superhero is awesome. Sure, the press is always in his shit and he really, actually hates that, but he’s Dean Winchester. The press hasn’t given him a break since the mid 90’s.

He’s in his suit, which is awesome, and flying while shooting down towards street level because the bad guys haven’t been able to fly today, and if he was gonna turn down that advantage he’d have to be an idiot. Which he isn’t, quite the opposite actually.

So, right, flying, Iron Man suit, genius, all around awesomeness, and his phone starts ringing. In the seconds it takes for Impala to tell him “Sir, Miss Harvelle calling for you,” Hawkeye is being shot at from his perch in a window sill 3 stories up, and Widow is doing her sexy acrobat of death thing. He swings round, flying low and scanning the ground.

“Widow, on your six, jump on it,” he says and she arches an eyebrow in his direction, lips pulled back in a snarl of a smile and Impala clears it's throat. He shoots a repulsors blast behind Widow, who jumps gracefully into the updraft and lands feet first on the shoulders of the bad guy shooting at Hawkeye, bringing him down in a matter of seconds.

“Hey, you don’t have a throat to clear you…baby,” he grumbles. He'd have to have a talk with his AI about being... brilliant when he wasn't getting shot at.

"Dean, I know you're there, Impala patched me through, where are you-"

"Hey Jo, how are you this - fucker! - no not you Jo, you know I'm-"

"And if your answer isn't 'on my way to the meeting with R&D' I swear-"

"Going through a tunnel, on my way to saving the world, sorry!" he hangs up quick, because Jo is scary, especially Jo on a warpath. He hears Hawkeye snort over comms and rolls his eyes, finding him climbing down from his perch and flipping the marksman his favorite metal incased finger. 

"Aww, I knew I was your favorite Deeno, but I'm a one woman agent." Gabe cackles when all Dean does is sigh, and Widow smirks in that way that says she's laughing at every single one of them. Dean lands as lightly as he can in a big metal suit and flips the faceplate up as he walks towards the two SHIELD agents he has been fighting beside for the better part of the month.

"What was that thing Singer keeps telling us about codenames and comms again, Widow?" he says and grins brightly when she glares at him in Gabe's defense.

"Dean," she says simply. It's enough of a threat to make him go wide around her though.

"Speaking of our dear old boss-man, he wants to see you at the debriefings, Winchester." Gabe says over his shoulder as he walks toward the SHIELD supplied suv. 

Bela smiles tightly at him, possibly as an apology, before pulling her phone out of one of her cat suit's invisible pockets and following Gabe.

"Fuck."

The fight's over by now, the amateures who had tried to run off with something not nearly as frightening as Director Singer's accent in cuffs in the back of squad cars already.

Even so, they're probably gonna be stuck with clean up and dealing with press and fucking christ, he's actually considering going to that meeting with R&D. He'd willingly face Jo after skipping days worth of meetings rather than deal with Singer today.

-:-

"And why do I have to keep reminding you idjits that your god damn codenames exist for a reason? Stop smirking Winchester, you're not exempt from this no matter how many times your PA threatens us."

Dean schools his features into a blank stare and sets his hands flat on the table in front of him. He doesn't want to be here, being in any meeting has always been more a test of self control than anything else, and he feels the start of a migrain behind his right eye.

"Totally, yeah. Oh, and technically she's CEO now." he mumbles to no one, ignoring Gabe chuckling across the table at him. The three of them are covered in dirt and grime, Dean hadn't even bothered changing out of the suit before coming here, they're all filthy and he's hoping to head back to the mansion for a shower after this. 

He has this moment of clarity instead and just stares. Gabe looks like he would fall asleep now if he could and Bela, with her face streaked with soot and possibly blood, looks exhausted. They all did really.

Dean's been working with SHIELD for a few months and only recently, when he'd moved out to New York, had he started working with Gabe and Bela. Well, okay, not Bela exactly, but he was willing to look past that whole 'infiltrating my company and spying on me' thing because she was 1, smoking hot, and 2, totally capable of killing him with a dull plastic spoon.

"We need a team," he sighs, headache coming down full force. To his credit, Singer didn't laugh in his face or try to punch him. Instead he got this creepy, far too pleased smile to spread across his face, (Dean didn't even know he knew how to do that) and nods.

"For once this is me agreeing with you, Winchester," he grumbles.

"Yeah so I'll just go and do my thing and, wait, what?" Dean stammers once he stops and listens. Bela is looking like she's not sure what to think of him while Gabe leans across the table and demands a fist bump.

"You need a team."

 

-:-

 

It's been a few months since Dean has seen the guy who is basically his little brother. Well, okay, younger. Sam probably hasn't been little since he fell from the puberty tree and hit every branch on his way down.

Still, seeing Sam walking towards him at the same time as he's trying to pretend he didn't see Dean brought a smile to his face as he yelled, "Sammy! Hey Sammy! Sasquatch, I know you can hear me! Don't fight our love!"

He really would have gone on, but Sam was suddenly in front of him, frowning and shoving a hand over Dean's mouth.

"You still talk too damn much, Dean," Sam says, but he's smiling now, pulling Dean into a one armed hug so he can't be too mad. It's not like Dean pulls him out of work every week. Anymore. Which reminds him...

"Hey, Sammy, you've forgiven me for 2003, right?" he asks, pulling the bag from Sam's shoulder. Sam snorts, rolling his eyes and taking his bag back.

"My great-great-grandchildren won't forgive you for that, Dean," he replies. They glare at each other over their sunglasses for a moment before Sam breaks into a grin, shaking his head and they walk to the car in a comfortable silence.

After they meet Ellen at the car, who greets Sam with a hug, they climb into the back seat and make their way to the mansion. Ellen eyes them both suspiciously, but doesn't say a thing other than a "It's good to see you boys together again," thrown over her shoulder as she brings Sam's bags into the entrance of the place.

"Stay for drinks, El?" Dean asks as she pulls Sam into another hug. She shakes her head, a look on her face Dean would read into if Sam wasn't giving him bitch face #2. It's not nearly as bad as bitch face #10, but he'd rather not be on the receiving end of any of them right now.

"No thanks Dean, I gotta swing back to the air strip for Miss Harvelle," she says and grins before she leaves and Dean groans. Jo in New York was not going to be fun.

They order pizza, drinking beers and watching bad reality tv late into the night. He'd blocked out Sam's love of Jersey Shore since the last they'd seen each other. Dean is grimacing at the sight of the drunken twenty-something year olds, and Sam stops reaching for another slice and laughs.

"So since I'm watching this crap all night with you, you owe me one, right?" Dean says, and Sam keeps laughing.

"Sure Dean," Sam chuckles and Dean wipes grease off on the leg of his jeans, winces because he's pretty sure these are new but at least it's not engine oil.

"Awesome, so I'll have Jo fax over some things for you to sign in the morning, night man," he says, pats Sam on the arm and stands before he can do anything more than drop his jaw in disbelief.

"Welcome to the team Sammy!" he yells over his shoulder, and ignores Sam's stammered protests as he walks to his bedroom.

 

-:-

 

"So is it just me, or-"

"It's just you," Bela cuts Dean off mid sentence, throwing a knife and jumping over the slam of a sword stronger than anything they've come up against biting into concrete.

"Ha-ha. But really, does New Mexico suck or does New Mexico suck?" Dean asks, flies low enough to grab Gabe under the arms and deposit him on the roof of a building near them.

"Guys, the chatter," Sam says, flying past Dean and firing off small explosives as he circles their target. Dean rolls his eyes, flying a loop in the air before landing behind the big guy swinging the sword.

"Eat me," Gabe grunts, jumping from one rooftop to the next. Dean watches him climb up a fire escape, watches Sam's landing across the street from him.

"Widow, Hawkeye, duck and cover. Just like last time Sa-War Machine," Dean says, lifting his arm and hoping Sam is putting that brain to use on the other side of this guy.

They fire at the same time, the glow of the repulsor blasts illuminating the man between them before they're all thrown to the ground by the blast waves.

Widow is down from wherever she'd ducked off to, gun drawn and aiming at the man's chest. There's a lot of chest going on there, Dean notes, groaning as he stands.

"That was stupid, even for you, Iron Man," she says without taking her eyes off of her target.

"Yeah, shit happens," Dean says, turning to the man rising to his feet a lot sooner than he should be. He holds his hands out in front of him just in case, but drops his faceplate to speak. "Hey big guy, how bout we try for the peace and love and puppies route, huh?"

There's a long pause and it gives Dean the chance to look this guy over. He's tall, broad through the shoulders; built like he should be playing pro ball. He's got longish blond hair and blue-green eyes and that's usually totally Dean's type but this guy gives off 'crazy alien toppiest top to ever top' vibes from fifty paces.

"Yes," he says finally, like he's not sure how to roll words off his tongue properly, "I believe I would enjoy thine company, man of metal."

He's grinning and clapping a hand on Dean's shoulder ( _fuck_ , he can feel that through the armor) and throws his head back and laughs, starts talking about getting a hold of a 'great and noble steed.'

In the distance there's a sound like the clap of thunder, and Dean doesn't know whether to count this whole thing as a loss or not.

(They don't know what to call him. Not because he doesn't have a name, but whatever his name is in his native language is fucking impossible (even for Bela) to pronounce.

They'd taken him to the on site library once they were back at the SHIELD HQ, plopped him down in front of books full of baby names and let him choose.

Four hours later and he had narrowed it down to Michael or Estephania.

They called a vote.

Thankfully Michael won.)

 

-:-

 

Not long after they pick up Michael, Bela goes on some super secret SHIELD mission. Dean knows what Singer sent her to South America to do, had hacked those files as soon as he caught wind of Bela's trip. (He'd only barely stopped himself from fist bumping her on her way out, but he likes all his fingers not being broken, thanks.) While she's gone Gabe heads back out to New Mexico.

By the end of day one Dean is almost completely sure Michael is trying to kill him with kindness. He had moved the team in with him before the trip to Puente Antiguo and it's weird because it's not weird at all and that just makes him feel worse. Plus Michael keeps walking around naked, and after the hair cut Bela had given him, he looks about half Dean's age.

Gabe is gone for a grand total of 8 days, shows up at the mansion's doorsteps with his arms spread like he's a magician who just threw open a curtain, grinning widely at Dean while Dean yells at him about using the team entrance like a normal fucking person. Or as close to normal as any of them get.

Michael, probably wondering what all the noise is about, leans out of his window three stories up, shouts something in his native tongue, and, because he's a god, or as close to it as they'll ever know, jumps.

Three stories, straight down, landing without so much as a change in his breathing. He stands, grins, and steps around Dean and Gabe, and Dean finally notices the women standing behind him.

They're both small; the taller, paler one of the two with a head full of bright red hair looks familiar, and the other one just looks bored and a little twitchy.

"My darling Anna!" Michael booms, (he's big on the booming) smile softening until the woman, Anna, grins and pulls his face down to hers. The three of them not involved in the current bout of tonsel hockey pull faces. Dean groans, Gabe 'aww's' and the other woman pretends to puke into the bushes lining the path to the door.

"God, seriously you two? It's been a month tops, cool down the type A teenage hormones," the other woman says, pushing between the reunited pair and wrapping her arms around Michael's waist and squeezing.

"I have missed you as well, fair Rebecca." Michael says, patting the top of her head like you would a rambunctious chihuahua, and she blanches.

"Ugh, please dude. I told you before, call me Becky or I'll tase you again."

"Type A?" Gabe asks and Anna frowns as Becky replies, "Asshole." She hardly takes a breath before adding, "Anna doesn't want me corrupting the Asgardian's grasp of the English language."

Dean examines his grease stained hands and whistles between his teeth. He was going to be blamed for that. It takes her a minute but Becky notices him, frowns until she recognizes him (he's been on the covers of four different tabloids this month, Ellen keeps a running tally just so she can frown and shake her head at him more than she already does) and her eyes widen.

"Not that you two can be any help there," Anna says, hand covering Becky's mouth and Michael is watching them like he's seen that a lot.

At the same time, Dean says, "The rumors are all grossly exaggerated. Mostly. Like 70% are just entirely false."

Which perks Gabe right up, his grin stretching to face-crackingly wide.

"Even the ballet twins?" He asks and Dean rolls his eyes.

"Just the prima ballerina actually, the other one was sick with chicken pox. Of all the fucked up plagues to hit the planet, she got the god damn Nickleback of sicknesses and couldn't make it. Also, they're cousins," Dean says, and really, he tries to stop but can't until they're all staring. 

Finally Michael turns to Anna and smiles and Becky says, "If she busts out a swear jar again I'm going to take drastic taser-y measures," before grabbing her bags and dragging them through the front door and the fact that this is a pretty normal night for Dean kinda makes him want to punch himself in the face.

 

-:-

 

Dean does his best to stay locked away in his garage, being a super genius, tinkering with his suit until Jo calls him, sounding even more pissed than she tends to during tax season. Which is silly, really, because Dean is the worst kind of friend ever in all of history, but he sees the way Sam and Jo look at eachother when he's in a room with them lately and if Jo doesn't get on that he'll have to interfere. They all know that never ends well. 

"Dean are you even listening to me?" Jo growls and the fact that she's growling things at him at all is worrying, snapping Dean to attention and she sighs.

"What's up Jo, how's our boy Sammy doin'?" he asks and listens to the sound of her nails clicking across a keyboard. He imagines she's in her office, sitting in the chair he knows was always her favorite, so he left it for her when she took over as CEO, wavy blond hair pulled artfully out of her face and off the back of her neck, her painfully high (and expensive) heels kicked off under her desk, manicured fingertips pressing a headache from her temples.

"It's in your email Dean," she says, hangs up and Dean is just as surprised by that as he is by them brushing off the whole Sam and Jo thing.

So he tells Impala to bring up his email, flips through the remainders of meetings and the check in's from Gabe that are mostly links to porn that he chuckles at and forwards to Sam until he lands on the one sent from Jo's secure email address.

He opens it, stares, and has Impala bring it up to about 200% magnification.

"Of course sir," Impala says, crisp and polite, bordering on sarcastic when he adds, "Would you like me to queue one of your playlists sir? Perhaps the one from the night-"

"Baby, I love you, but I'm this close to making you sound like Berry White again," Dean threatens, not really thinking as he speaks. He stands, walks until he has to crane his neck to take in the whole screen and it still doesn't seem real.

He grabs a tablet off the nearest workbench, clicks about on it, giving Impala instructions as he does so until he can make out two very important things on the video.

Within the blur of snow and ice and a sky so blue it's probably clean of toxins (he's not really worried about that now) he can make out the shapes of the equipment used by the dig team, 'Winchester International' in large block letters painted across the side of every one of them. He knew his dad had kept looking, every few years for decades after the war until his death, but he hadn't known there were any active dig sites anymore.

There's static, the sound of someone's breathing, and then the picture clears up, as best as it can and zooms in on something just under the surface of the ice.

It's a circular shield, red and blue stripes bright in the cold, the star in the center of it nearly stopping Dean's heart for a second, which isn't an easy feat, not with the arc reactor running that show.

"Call Miss Harvelle, secure lines." He says and scowls up at the ceiling as he puts the call through. The phone rings twice before Jo picks up.

"Dean?" She says, tone asking 'What happened?' and 'Are you okay?' though she'd learned long ago not to actually voice those concerns.

"Yeah Jo, get a meeting with legel set up, I want this airtight. And call Singer," He says, turning back to the screen paused on the image of Captain America's vibranium shield and chuckling, "I'm gonna nail these assholes to the wall." 

 

-:-

 

Dean doesn't stop, doesn't even think about it as he storms down the clinically white hallways towards Director Singer's office. Jo is close at his heels, both of them being followed by SHIELD agents, more agents lining the end of the hall where there are two doors to choose from, and more down the hallway around the corner of them.

There's an agent at every door, and Dean catches a flash of sandy brown hair from the corner of his eye and waves a greeting towards Bela as she walks past them, arm around a small guy with a beard who Dean would definitely high five right now if he wasn't about to turn this bitch up to 11.

"You know we can't let you through there Winchester, and I so don't want to ruin this suit with your drool, don't make me do it," Dean hears to his left and flinches as a door slaps shut.

"Crowley, baby, good to see you," Dean says and Jo grimaces. They'd met Agent Crowley a few times over the years and Dean had every reason to be well and truly terrified of him. As it was, he just made it his life's goal to annoy Crowley whenever they were around each other.

And because in his own fucked up way, Crowley actually kind of liked Dean (at least enough to catch him the last time he had tased him instead of letting him hit the floor face first), he didn't try as hard as he could have to stop Dean from shoving past him, his fingers wrapped around Jo's wrist to tug her in after him.

Agents push in after him, weapons drawn and Dean catches Crowley's eyes and they both scoff. Crowley raises a hand and let's his voice carry as he says, "Gentlemen, weapons down. Now," and it happens. If Dean tried something like that they'd probably laugh him right out of the damn building.

Dean steps farther into the room, spots Singer facing him, speaking to a man whose back is to the door but is turning towards them and Dean recognizes him immediately. He'd seen the newsreels and paper clippings, remembers John telling him stories until he was too old to be stuck worrying about long lost heroes. (He was seven.)

He turns and Dean can't help but gasp, because it's him, it's Captain America, and no matter how old he is now there's still a part of him that thrills at the fact that he's standing in a room with his childhood idol. Jo stares for a moment, looks at Dean and nods, stepping around him and Captain America, and hands Director Singer the supeona. He glares at her and she smiles up at him as she speaks and Dean misses all of that because  _fuck him, that's Captain America._

He's got a shadow of stubble along his jaw, eyes bright and blue and ocean deep, his hair parted and brushed and he's honest to god standing so straight he might as well be at attention.

"John?" he says when he sees Dean, and that about knocks him on his ass. And he gets it, he really does, because he's heard it often enough, how much he looks like John and acts like John and he's suddenly pissed, and let's it flash across his face for a second, gets a confused head tilt in response and grins and watches Jo scowl at him like she knows what he's thinking.

"Sorry to disappoint Cap," he says, turns to leave and waves a dismissive hand in Singer's direction. "John's been dead for decades," he mutters.

"Captain Novak, Dean Winchester." Singer says as he glowers at Dean, but fuck that, he doesn't have to be here anymore, he's done what he needed to and seen what he wanted and feels like shit now and isn't it always the way with Dean?

So he walks out, listens to the click of Jo's heels as she follows next to him. If he flips the whole room off over his shoulder as he holds the door open for her, well John would never have done that, would he?


	2. Patience and Grace

Dean likes to think, even though he knows he's not the best person; was a bad friend, a worse boss, and a fucking awful boyfriend; he's a damn good superhero.

Than Captain god damn America came around, or back, or whatever it was that Singer was telling people. Dean hadn't been thinking about his prowess as Iron Man a lot since than. He hadn't been thinking about much of anything in the week since, locking himself in his garage to work on his cars and run through reports sent down from R&D instead.

He was starting to smell a little ripe, honestly. Having Impala make a note to put a shower in the garage, he wiped his hands clean (-ish, grease and car oil are a bitch to get out) and started up towards his room.

It must be late, or really early, the only sounds as he pads barefoot into the kitchen after his shower the soft hush of air conditioning.

He pours himself a cup of coffee, frowns at the almost desperate sound coming from his stomach and is rifling through the fridge when someone joins him.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't-"

"Hey, who made pie?"

They say at the same time and Dean has to look up because it's Cap- Castiel and he's kinda getting a crick in his neck, bent over in the fridge like this.

"I hope you don't mind, there was just, the house, Impala? He said it was okay." Castiel trails off, runs a hand through his hair and Dean notices that he's damp, stammering nervously, and capable of baking a pie. Dean is kinda stuck on the fact that his hair is sticking up in clumps from the tug of his fingers, his sweatshirt half open, the hollow of his neck shining in the overhead lights, Dean and shakes himself.

"Dude, it's okay," he says, tries for a smile and gets a tentative one in return. He sticks a slice in the microwave, sips at his coffee while Castiel refills his water bottles and pauses at the doorway.

Dean digs a fork into his slice of pie once it's out of the microwave, and probably it's the fact that he can't remember the last time he ate something but- "God, that- that's fucking fantastic." he moans, grins over at Castiel once he swallows.

"Totally feel free to bake all you want if everything comes out as good as this." He says around his next bite and, okay, this is new. Not the talking with food in his mouth, Sam has been whining at him about that for years, but the actually talking to the Star spangled man part. Dean wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and grins. The other man flushes, but holds his gaze.

"But hey, I didn't know you could cook Cap, that's neat, that's like, is it a muscle memory thing or has Sam got you watching Food Network too?" Dean says and for some reason the other man steps towards him again, frowning now.

"Castiel." he says.

"Huh?"

"My name?" He says, face straight though it softens as he adds, "also technically it's baking, but thank you Mr. Winchester."

"Okay, yeah I see why that could get annoying, but if i'm calling you Castiel, let's ditch the Mr. Winchester crap." Dean blanches. Cap- _Castiel's_ brow furrows, but he nods anyways before leaving the room. Dean watches him go, fork full of pie hovering inches in front of his mouth until he snaps himself out of it.

"Captain god damn America."

 

-:-:-:-

 

That'd usually be the end of it, the gutpunch of lust either shoved to the back of Dean's mind, acted upon or drowned in his second best bottle of whiskey. Except it's months later and they've become friends so neither of those things gets a chance to happen because the Fantastic Four decide to go on vacation and are also a merry band of accidental superhero dickbags.

Basically, The Avengers are left to pick up the slack. Doctor Doom using a raygun to control every warm blooded animal in the central park zoo is a fucking joke, but there they are. The fight lasts about as long as it takes for Dean to toss the few gorillas gaurding Doom around and grabbing his raygun of ridiculousness.

Michael flies by, determined glint in his eyes as he approaches a giraffe, and grins.

"My spotted friend, it would warm the cockles of my soul for you to join me in battle as the true warrior you are!" He yells and Dean flips his faceplate up to look over at Cap, who was cuddling a lion cub for whatever reason one would do that. They both stifle laughter before Bela says, "There is no bloody way you're riding a giraffe through the streets of New York, Michael."

The fact that this is not a new argument is the only thing keeping Dean from grabbing an arrow off Gabe's quiver and stabbing himself in the eye with it.

"Literally, the last thing I want in the world is to have Michael trying to house train a giraffe at the mansion," Dean sighs, receiving grumbled agreements over the comms, pinching the bridge of his nose as he takes off and lands next to Cap. "He'd convince himself he needs to be more intune than the freaking All-Speak allows for and the next thing you know we've got an Asgaurdian prince zooming around the yard in giraffe paint."

"It'd be an awful mess." Castiel says dryly, pulling a surprised laugh from Dean.

"Think of the dry cleaning bills." Dean adds, grinning when that makes Castiel laugh.

"Not to mention what the neighbors would think." Castiel says and looks like he'd go on but Gabe hops down from where ever he was perched and elbows Dean in the side, wincing because, duh big metal suit.

"If you two are done flirting like school girls, Crowley wants everyone back at transport." He says, cackling when Castiel blushes, Dean can see it around the edges of his cowl.

Once they're back at the suv and Crowley is ripping into Bela as well as one can- because she's just about the scariest person Dean knows and if she thinks slicing through a couple of boa constrictors was the way to go about today's fight, he's not gonna be the one to tell her not to- she looks over at Dean, eyebrow arched, and her eyes widen before she shifts her glance over to Castiel and Dean follows it. Cas is looking straight at Crowley, but when he feels Dean looking at him he smiles, quick and than it's gone but it's like a vice cracking his ribs and crushing his chest, that easy smile spreading across Cas' face.

Bela sees all of this, Dean knows and can see her watching him out of the corner of her eye as Crowley winds down. She pulls him aside, dark blond hair swinging around her shoulders as she turns on her heels to face him.

"You're-"

"Fucked, I'm aware Bela." Dean says and pretends there's something like sympathy in her face when Bela rests a hand on his arm before she steps back and he flies back to the mansion alone.

 

-:-:-:-

 

When Dean was in that hellhole cave of wonders for three months with a car battery strapped to his heart, absolutely sure he was going to die, he didn't give much thought to things like family or the people who would miss him. He knew he had people, a select few who he would do virtually anything for, but never wondered on it, never wondered if they'd worried, still worried, or were just tired and glad to be rid of him.

But than they'd finished the first armor and broke out into the tunnels and there wasn't enough time, he was too big and slow and he could almost feel the shrapnel tearing into his heart. And Rourke had looked up at him from the rubble of the partial cave-in, big blue eyes already dull, and told him, "Don't waste it Dean, don't waste it..."

("Palladium in the chest Winchester, painful way to die." He'd have to visit Raphael in his special circle of hell for that little tidbit. If dying ever finally stuck.)

He didn't know what to do after that.

Most days he was lucky if he remembered to sleep or eat, being a better person was... not something he thought of about himself.

But this, moving back to New York after years out west -completely bypassing Lawrence because he's self-destructive, not suicidal, thanks- and joining the Avengers. It's a step right? He thinks it is, and in the right direction too.

"Of course it is Dean," Jo says. Dean is man enough to admit that he hadn't realized he'd been speaking out loud or that she was there. He jumps, sputtering beer over his hands and it stings a moment after he remembers the burns there. It's nothing major, just from upgrades to the gauntlets, he's had worse before the super hero thing, but it aches a little now and Jo arches an eyebrow expectantly while he blots it dry.

He finally really notices Jo, dressed comfortably in jeans a t shirt and flats. Her hair is loose around her shoulders and he's struck by how small, how completely gorgeous she is. It's not like he doesn't know, hadn't known intimately for a while there, but it's a shock just the same.

He means to tell her a number of things. _You look great_ for one, or _If Sammy doesn't treat you right we'll have to put a hit out on him because I can't aim a loaded anything at that kid ever again,_ or his favorite, _did you know you're mom is getting down with Singer, because I should not be the only one privvy to that shit_. What comes out is a rushed, "So I think I'm maybe falling for Captain America, and I need this fixed as soon as possible, I mean- his hair is ridiculous ever since he let Becky mess with it, I'm pretty sure virginal war veterans aren't allowed to have sex hair and I don't- Jo-" and he waits a beat for it to sink in before wincing at his fucking brain to mouth filter.

Jo, because she's Jo and therefore the greatest asset Dean has ever had, including the Mark 4, just snorts a laugh, grabbing the beer from his hand and finishing it off. Her smile softens when he doesn't say anything else,

"Dean, I'm pretty sure everyone's a little in love with him-"

"Urgh don't say that Jo, I'm going to break out into hives-"

"He is Captain America, after all."

"You're no help at all," Dean says, turning away from her and grabbing another beer, "I might as well be asking Becky to do my taxes."

"Well she did major in accounting for a few months, and I guess I'll just cancel that birthday party Sam and I have been planing for you," she sneers and Dean glares. "I'm sure Becky could find you reservations at a Chuck-E-Cheese."

"That- you wouldn't." He stammers and she grins. She leans up, pressing a kiss to his cheek before turning towards to leave.

Dean looks around, and the place is a mess, really -there's granola bar wrappers and pizza boxes and dirty mugs from Chuck's near constant need for calming teas, not to mention the damage Michael does to furnuture- but it feels more like home than anything has in a long time.

Castiel chooses this exact moment, with Dean looking at the mess of the kitchen and living room and getting misty eyed over it, to emerge from the direction of the stairs dressed in slacks and a dress shirt, a tie loose around his throat. He looks like a flash back straight to Dean's days in prep school, and he shudders at those memories, but that's not the worst of it.

He's wearing this beigh trench coat -who the hell gave him that thing, because Dean wants them fired for it- and it's flapping around his legs until he comes to a stop at the edge of the island in the center of the kitchen.

"Hello Dean." He says, lips tugging upward into a smile when Dean grins a little manically at him.

"Hey Cas," Dean says, and god, he must be running on too much coffee and little to no sleep because there's this... this soft look in his eyes. But then Cas takes inventory of Dean's person, and his life choices and shuts it down to scowl.

"I think I should get you to bed," he says, and Dean waggles his eyebrows. (Cas blushes pretty and easily, light pink creeping high on his cheeks and the back of his neck.) "To sleep, Dean." he clarifies, but Dean grins, empties most of his beer into the sink.

"Get lunch with me and I'll think about it." Dean counters, and watches as Cas weighs the pros and cons. Because obviously if he wanted to Cas could just throw Dean over his shoulder and carry him to bed, and while that's nice to think about, really nice to think about, Dean knows Cas won't, because of the serum and not knowing the bounds of his strength as well as the fact that he is still trying and adjusting.

Dean gets it, but mostly he thinks Cas must be lonely. Right now though, Dean's just really hungry. Drinking before noon seemed to have that effect on him. Cas nods, still frowning a little and Dean grins.

"You're not driving like this Dean."

"Well no shit, Sherlock, Ellen can drive us. What's your stance on hamburgers?"

 

Turns out, Captain America can put away enough burgers to feed a little league team. In some vague way Dean knew this, he's seen Cas eat back at the mansion and while it's not Michael sized portions, it's still a lot. He's still kind of impressed.

"How many is that?" Dean says, tipping his cup back into his mouth and chewing on ice. Cas stares for a second, than starts, shoves another bite of burger in his mouth, chews as he seems to think, and swallows.

"Somewhere in the low 50's? Dean really you didn't have to do this."

"Hey, Cas?" Dean says, grabbing a couple fries off his tray and shoving them in his mouth. Cas looks across the table, empty burger wrappers strewn about between them, his eyes wide and there should be 7-minute rock ballads about how deep blue his eyes are. There's also a drop of ketchup on the corner of his mouth and Dean is struck with the image of leaning across  and licking it away, or wiping it off onto his thumb and sucking it clean, the way Cas would blush and stammer as he watched.

Dean has to physically shake himself from that train of thought, grins to try and hide it and he's not fooling anyone, or just isn't fooling Cas, whose eyes narrow suspiciously.

"Shut up," He says. When he sees the way Cas frowns and remembers (how is he always forgetting?) that Cas isn't from now, doesn't brush that off as simply as Dean would, he adds, "It's not a problem, I like hanging out with you, even if you show more love to a big mac than you do me."

And well he didn't expect that to get the guy to blush, but it does. Cas is all pink cheeked and very pointedly staring at the table and not at Dean and all Dean can do is blink a few times before pressing a napkin into the other man's hand. He let's his fingers linger for a second too long before pulling back, sliding his favorite sunglasses out of his hair and over his eyes.

"You've got something." he makes wiping motions near his mouth and Cas gets it, blushing a little deeper when he stands, takes a few minutes to gather the mess onto trays and take it to the garbage before meeting Dean at the door.

They walk back to the mansion together, comfortably silent except for the breeze snapping at the bottom of Cas's coat.

 

-:-:-:-

 

"I thought you were kidding-" Dean says, eyes not leaving the jet boot he's reassembling. Jo hasn't been in his workshop for long but he can feel her growing annoyed.

"Why would I kid about this-"

"Because you're a lying liar who lies-"

"I've already got some costume choices for you to look at-"

"That's actually worse than what I thought-"

"The caterer and the guy Ellen buys all your booze from have already confirmed, it's a done deal, Dean." Jo says, throwing a smile towards Cas, who has peeked out from under the car he was working on with Dean until Dean got distracted.

"I think it sounds fun." He says, smudging grease marks onto his forehead with the back of his hand. Dean just shakes his head, handing him a washcloth to wipe it off. Jo gives him a very pointed look, which he ignores, thank you, and helps Cas to his feet.

"Jo helped me pick a costume, and I heard Michael saying something about bringing a cask of mead down from Asgard."

Dean groans, head falling forward onto Cas' shoulder. Cas chuckles, a laugh that rumbles low in his chest, and pats Dean on the back a few times before resting his hand there.

"As long as he keeps his sibling bullshit in Asgard. The last time we saw Lu, he shoved me through a fricken window, remember?"

Cas frowns, Dean could feel him straighten as he said, "I agree, I hope no one invites him."

Jo flips Dean off, threatens to shove him a window herself, and grabs Cas by the wrist, tugging him away as he shoots an apologetic look back at Dean and she yells, "Costume party, Dean!"

 

Hours later the party is in full swing. Chuck (Robin Hood, "Becky said green was a good color for me") is nursing his one and only beer and watching Gabe (Marilyn Monroe. Yes really.) playing beer pong with Becky (in a suit and tie, claiming very seriously to be agent R, from the MIB), substituting bite sized snickers bars for ping pong balls. Michael (In a toga, probably Anna's idea,) was telling stories of his greatest victories to Bela, who was in her Black Widow outfit and knocking back shots of Asgardian mead with seemingly little to no effect.

"You might wanna think about rescuing you're boyfriend from team Harvelle." Sam says, face serious though he was dressed as Mario and watching Jo and Ellen egging on Cas. Dean glares and stammers, only making Sam smile a little brighter before going on his merry Sasquatch way.

There were empty beer bottles and overturned shot glasses lined up on both sides of the counter, and Jo was leaning against her mother, her Wonder Woman wristlets clanking against the counter as she slapped her hands down on the counter.

"I think I'm starting to feel something." Cas say, and Jo cheers before turning and spotting Dean.

"Oh, Mr. Winchester! Shit, I mean Dean, we're getting Cas drunk!" she whispers, winking at him before pushing a shot into Dean's hand. He throws it back, not as difficult as he thought It'd be with the cowl on, and joins them at the counter. Cas looks over at him, eyes sparkling with laughter and sobriety as Dean takes another shot from his row.

"Hello Dean." He says, and he wasn't drunk but his voice was still rough from slamming back drinks.

"Uh-uh man, I don't know this devilishly handsome Dean you're talking about," Dean says, than pitching his voice lower, adding, "I'm Batman." he even had the cape, not to mention the fully functional utility belt.

From the beer pong table Gabe cackles, pumping his fists victoriously as Becky grimaces. "It tastes like nougat and failure!" she squeals.

Cas laughs, pushing the glasses he was wearing back up his nose.

"Who are you supposed to be? Castiel with new and improved dork vision?" he asks, earning him a swat on the arm from Ellen.

"Clark Kent," Cas says, working the first few buttons of his shirt open to reveal the top of a Superman costume beneath it, "Jo thought it'd be funny."

It is actually, now that Dean is really paying attention. He's got on the same outfit from the last time they went out for burgers, minus the trench coat, put together a little differently. Shirt tucked and tie straight, with the glasses and his hair brushed just so, he could be Clark Kent. Dean must have been staring for a while, Cas fidgets under his gaze, and Ellen drags Jo to the entertainment center where Anna is challenging everyone to a game of Mario Kart.

"We'll leave you boys to it than." she says as she goes, and Jo winks, giggling as she fell against Sam's side. God, he'd forgotten what tequila did to Jo.

He leans back, elbows on the counter top and nudges Cas with his hip. There is a piece of paper on the fridge, kept there by am arrow of Gabe's. It's a drawing of the team, Anna and Becky included, and from the way the Hulk is drawn in neatly while the rest of them are barely beyond stick figures, Dean guesses it's from one of Becky's 'I'm bored and Chuck is busy writing his next manuscript or saving the world and keeping as far from Singer as possible' moods.

"She never gets my head right." Dean sighs, and can feel Cas hum in agreement.

"Well," Cas says, putting his glasses in his shirt pocket, "It is a little large."

Dean frowns, looking between the drawing and his reflection on the door of the freezer. Cas is standing close enough that Dean can see his shoulders shaking in silent laughter on the surface of the appliance.

"You're one to talk, Kal-El." Dean laughs, bumping his hip against Cas, harder than he intended because he stumbles a little, legs getting tangled in his cape ("No capes!" Gabe shouts from the other room,) only not landing on his face because Cas has a hold on his arms.

Dean is smiling, can see the start of stubble against Cas' jaw, and he's smiling too. His eyes are dancing, and Dean is almost positive he's drunk and shouldn't do this but, god he _wants_ to.

Dean leans up, not daring to close his eyes, instead watching Cas' face. There's confusion there, yes, but there's something else, something Dean wants to scratch at and inspect what's under it.

Cas goes from smiling to full out grinning, and that would be the envy of toothpaste commercials worldwide, Dean thinks.

He doesn't realize Cas is leaning down to meet him until their mouths press together. His lips are chapped and Cas tastes like Cuervo and lime salt, he can hear Gabe cheering them on and he doesn't care, let's his hands come up from his sides and tangle in Cas' hair.

Later, once Michael has calmed down enough to not break Gabe's spine for cheating every time they play mario kart against each other, and Bela has pulled her husband away to 'finish up some paperwork,' everyone else sidles away until it's just Sam, with Jo dozing against his side and Dean on the couch, Ellen and Cas sneaking off to the kitchen a few minutes ago.

Sam grins across the couch at him, and Dean smiles right back.

When Cas and Ellen come back they're carrying a cake that looks like it wasn't decorated by a five year old. Dean assumes it was Bela, who is surprisingly spectacular at it. It's another team portrait, every one out of costume in this one, with Dean in the middle and his arm around Cas and Sam's shoulders, and Jo is squeezed in against Sam's side. There's Michael to one side, his head thrown back in a laugh at Gabe, Anna smiling between him and Becky rubbing at her glasses with her shirt, Gabe is near Sam, looking like he's getting ready to jump on him, Bela is rolling her eyes, her hand on Chuck's wrist and tugging him into the shot.

Dean remembers this picture, it's fucking awful, no one is really looking at the camera and everyone is moving too much but they all look happy and familiar and he's having trouble not smiling like an idiot at it.

They sing 'happy birthday' and he blows out the candles and for the first time in as far back as Dean can remember, he tells them he had a great day and means it.  

"Happy Birthday Dean." Cas murmurs against his mouth, pressing Dean against his bedroom door, Dean's Batman cowl dangling from the hand that isn't gripping his left arm tight.

"Yeah," Dean sighs, pulling him closer with a hand at the small of his back, his other hand searching for the doorknob and shoving the door open. 

They kiss until Dean has to come up for air, both of them suitably rumpled, and Dean chuckles as Cas kicks the door shut behind them.

"Happy birthday Dean." He says, and before Cas rolls his eyes, smiling fondly as he pushes Dean down onto his bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you thank you thank you for reading and enjoying and not hating me for this guys!


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